Awakening
by Cheap Indifference
Summary: Before there was The Shepard Gang, things were ran differently on Tulsa's East side. Maybe he was right about you failing miserably, but you knew you would do a whole hell of a lot better job than he did. It was going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders**

**A/N: This entire fic is dedicated to aero because without her, this would have never been created. Thank you for being so awesome.**

**XXX**

**February 18, 1964  
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"You don't have it in you," Wayne spat. Staring at him intently, you were surprised that you weren't shaking. Maybe he was right about you failing miserably, but you knew you would do a whole hell of a lot better job than he did.

Keeping the expression on your face emotionless, you had thought long and hard about what was going to happen, and all the answers led back to this situation. You knew what had to be done now, what was coming next.

Maybe this was why Ben brought you in, teaching you everything that was necessary to know to be able to survive in this whole other world. Maybe he knew this was going to happen sooner or later and this moment was what he prepared you for. Taking a deep breath, you stared at Wayne awhile longer.

He was a born leader, the leader of The Crawford Gang. People couldn't help but follow him; it was who he was. Maybe they were scared of him, or maybe they just liked how they felt around him. He had a way with people, made them feel as if they were worth something. And around here that was a hard thing to find.

"You'll have to kill me, Tim," he said, interrupting your thoughts. Jesus, the thought of actually taking someone's life away was truly nauseating, but you knew that it wouldn't be the last time it come to this. Ben had warned you a long time ago that this business was no game, either kill or be killed—there was no in between.

You gave him conniving smirk this time, telling him without words that that was exactly what was going to happen. It was hardly noticeable, but the smug look on his face fell a little.

"You remind me of myself," he said and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The more he talked, the more you wanted to shut him up; the way he was talking it was almost believable that he might have something up his sleeve. For all you knew, he did; he was Wayne Crawford. He was smart, quick; he was someone that had better damn well been dead if you were threatening to kill him.

"The only difference is one of us has a gun pointed at their head," you finally spoke.

It was the gun that made you nervous.

**XXX**

**A/N: Special thanks to Al and aero for their help with editing and encouragement. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders**

**A/N: For my bestie. You know what it is.**

**XXX**

**November 25, 1963**

"You're not here for any other reason Tim," Ben told you as you both kept your eyes on the old warehouse.

Ben was the second in command in The Crawford Gang. You dated his sister, Lorraine for a while, at least that's what she told him. If someone told you they were casually fucking your sister, they'd be dead before they could spit it out. Lorraine had called it off though when she started dating someone, Dennis Richards. You didn't mind much; Lorraine was good lay but she was the type that wanted a boyfriend, something you couldn't give her. She was a good person and it was the only reason it didn't piss you off, she deserved to have a relationship and be happy, or whatever.

You had stayed friends with Ben though and you were pretty sure he was the one who suggested Tim Shepard to Wayne himself. You weren't really sure how much sway Ben had or how much Wayne even listened to his opinion. You'd only been there for a month but you were pretty sure it was Wayne's way or no way. You didn't really see the point of having a second in command if that was the way things were ran.

"Well, I still don't see what's so wrong with Marty," you said, tapping your fingers on the armrest of the door. Finally, Ben turns to look at you for the first time since pulling outside of the warehouse.

"Marty's weak, Tim," he said your name as if he were apologizing for disrespecting your best friend. You didn't take to it too kindly but there wasn't much you could do from inside a car, fighting outside wouldn't have made a difference either.

Ben was twice your size, he was turning twenty soon and still only being fifteen, there wasn't much of a chance. He was the only one you really got along with in the gang so far. The rest seemed distant, in your opinion it wasn't much of a gang at all, it was more of people doing Wayne's dirty work because they owe him a favour that will never be considered paid off until they were dead.

"He has too much heart," Ben corrected himself as he turned back to the warehouse. That was true enough but maybe that's what a gang like this needed.

"And we're just cold hearted pricks that don't give a fuck about no one," you added, concentrating on the door of the warehouse. You caught Ben's smirk from the corner of your eye and shook your head a little. When it really came down to it you cared about a grand total of five people, the people you would die for. Maybe you shouldn't have been thinking about dying for people at the age of fifteen but it's how you were raised ever since your old man up and left.

"This is pointless," you complained, resting your head up against the window. Highly doubting anything was going to happen because the both of you had been there for two hours and no one had entered or left the damn warehouse. You weren't given any specific details, just to go along with Ben and be his back up.

"If you're second in command, how come you have such a shitty job to do?" you asked half jokingly. If this was Ben's job, you could only imagine the grunt work Wayne would get you to do. Sitting in this car with Ben would become a wet fucking dream.

"Because sitting in the car isn't the job, Tim," he said, looking at his watch. You didn't like how he added your name at the end of the things he said, it made you feel like a little kid that needed everything explained to him. You sighed as you watched a car pull up in front of the warehouse.

Sitting up in your seat a little, watching a few guys walk out of an old '49 Ford pickup and into the warehouse. Ben cursed under his breath as he opened the door of the car, assuming this was your cue to follow, you quickly got out of the car and caught up to Ben's long strides toward the warehouse.

You had no idea what was going on, what the plan was or who you were dealing but there you were standing in front of an old, run down warehouse that you probably shouldn't have been standing in front of.

"Just keep your mouth shut and try not to look so fucking jumpy, we're out numbered," he said as he glanced at you, flipping up the collar of his jacket. Staring at the door, you stuffed your fists in your jacket. It was fucking cold outside and it irritated the hell outta you not knowing what was going on.

"Well, howdy fucking do. What do we have here boys?"

You knew who this guy was. He was the leader of the Tiber Street Tigers, his name was Warren Thomas and he was one guy that shouldn't be fucked with. The Tigers and the Crawford's had had a lot of disputes, everyone and their dog knew they hated each other, there was one thing you knew for sure: something was about to go down.

Counting five more guys behind Warren, you stood there wishing someone would tell you what the hell was going on.

"Do I really need to remind you, again?" Ben said, clenching his jaw. Apparently, this had happened many a time and literally beating it into his thick skull wasn't doing what Wayne or Ben wanted it to.

"There are six of us Benny. Who the fuck is this?" Warren spat as he motioned to you. You really wanted to knock his teeth out; he sure thought he was something special.

"This is Tim Shepard," Ben said impatiently.

"The newest member of The Crawford Gang. Wayne just picking up anyone off the streets these days?" Warren chuckled as he brushed the top of your shoulder.

You ran your tongue across the front of your teeth, angrily before shoving Warren, making him stumble backwards. Your fist met his face before he could regain his balance, feeling his nose crack. It wasn't long before his five other goons were all over both you and Ben.

Wiping the blood from your lip when three of the guys ran off through the parking lot. The point of having cowards as back up would never make any sense. It looked better on your part to tough it out alone rather than having your own gang not fight for you.

Ben's foot was on Warren's neck before the other two could help him up. It sounded as if Warren was choking on his own blood and he probably was, his nose being broken and all.

"We need a payment, Warren," Ben threatened as he stepped down on his neck a little more as you watched the two other guys carefully, making sure they weren't stupid enough to actually pull a blade.

"Not next week, tomorrow," he finished, releasing his foot and turning around, walking back towards the car. "I'll kill you next time I have to ask."

Swallowing the lump in your throat you kept a distance between Ben as you followed him back to the car. Anyone had the ability to kill someone, you didn't know what the payment was for or why it was so important but the way Ben had said it; you knew Ben wouldn't think twice about doing it.

Hesitating slightly before opening the car door and slowly sliding onto the passenger seat. You were supposed to keep cool and not say anything, you were pretty sure that included not breaking a gang leaders nose.

You glanced at Ben, awaiting your rightful cuff upside the head. He just gave you a smirk before pulling out of the gravel parking lot, spinning the tires.

"You ain't mad?" you asked, finally, after a long silence. Anxious to what was going to happen next, maybe he wasn't mad because he was going to feed you to Wayne himself.

"Nah," he said, still smirking. "Why do ya think I brought you along?"

You stared at him awhile, shrugging a bit. How'd he know what would happen? You could have very well listened to what he told you to do. Ben was smarter than you gave him credit for; it was then you realized why he was second in command. Hell, he probably had more pull then expected too.

"The most important thing you can learn is to always think ahead, Tim. Be prepared for any situation and there will never be any surprises."

**XXX**

**I take the time to write it, take the time to review it. Much love.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Outsider doesn't belong me. Obvskis.**

**A/N: This one goes to aero, Believe in Something Bigger, and cassy1994. Your reviews are refreshing. Super special thanks to Al for looking this over for me and dealing with my grammar, you're the best.**

**XXX**

**November 30th, 1963**

"I'm getting married," Mom repeated.

You stared at her with disbelief, wondering when the fuck she'd even started dating. No one ever mentioned a guy, and you certainly hadn't seen or heard of one since the old man left.

Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed. "To who?"

At the moment you were trying to figure out how to tell Curly and Angela. They were still pretty young. Jesus, Curly was still waiting on Dad to come home—you were nearly his age when it all happened—and Angela, well, she didn't even remember the guy.

"His name is Roger Boyd," she said, patting your shoulder. "He's a lovely man, Timothy."

As she walked past you and made her way into the kitchen, the look on her face held no mystery. You knew exactly why she was doing this. She was getting worse, sicker than she was already, but she didn't need another man around the house. You were perfectly capable of taking care of your brother and sister; hell, it was pretty much happening already.

But she was your mother: she was a traditional Catholic woman, and she was more stubborn than you were. There was no way she was going to let her kids grow up parentless and become hell raisers, even though it was a little late for that. As far as you were concerned, there was no need for some middle-aged guy to move and sit on his ass and drink beer all day. And had a funny feeling that was exactly the kind of guy this Roger Boyd was.

"Ma." You sighed. "Ya don't have to do this."

"Oh, hush, Timothy," she said, smiling like it was something she actually wanted.

You knew better, though; she was just doing this in case she died tomorrow. She didn't want her kids ending up orphans or separated, and in that sense, you understood—at least a little—but it wasn't something that was agreeable.

"Well, I ain't callin' him Dad," you told her.

"You don't have to, dear."

She smiled that warm smile Moms give to let their kids know everyone was going to be all right, but you didn't buy it. You had a feeling it'd be just the opposite.

XXX

Wayne wanted to see you. It made you nervous, something that didn't happen often.

After a month of being in his gang, he'd hadn't wanted to talk before now, which was pretty stupid of him; not knowing the guys who did his dirty work was a recipe for disaster. It was a quick way to earn a bad reputation and an even quicker way to get screwed over.

"Tim Shepard," he said almost too casually.

You raised an eyebrow, as he made his way into his cluttered office where he'd kept you waiting. Knowing it was all a game aimed to make the other guy nervous actually gave some comfort. If you saw through the ploys, he didn't have the same advantage on you like he did with everyone else.

But maybe being aware gave you too much confidence. After all, you'd never met him before and had no clue what to say or do. The only predictable thing about the guy was that he was unpredictable.

Glancing up at him, you figured it'd be smart just to keep your mouth shut and wait until he asked a question. He was a big guy, bigger than Ben. His eyes were what caught your attention, though; they were such a dark brown that they looked almost black. There was nothing there, not a hint of laughter, and if he weren't Wayne Crawford, you'd say they looked almost sad. He looked absolutely soulless and that was the part of him people feared the most.

"Ben sure seems to think you deserve to be here," he said in almost a bored tone. Making sure to hold your gaze with him, knowing he was trying to get into your head.

He was toying with you. When he smirked, you stared straight back at him. It was test, and for the first time since joining the gang, he seemed pretty smart. He had waited to see you until now because he was building up to this moment. Lots of guys probably cracked under this kind of pressure; it was his way to weed out the weak.

"He might be right." Wayne nodded as he slowly walked around your chair.

"Your anger makes you predictable," he said, leaning up against the desk. "Fix it before I do."

He was being dead serious, that much was obvious, and you made a mental note that breaking noses was definitely not keeping it cool.

You gave him a slight nod to tell him it was duly noted, and it was, considering your temper would warrant unwanted attention to not only you but the gang, too.

"You can go now," he said, moving behind the desk, finally breaking eye contact. Blinking before getting up, you knew you hadn't screwed up as badly as he was making it seem. This was why he had so much power, because he instilled fear into everyone around him.

"And Tim." He stopped you before getting the chance to open the door. Turning around slightly, you glanced at him at him as he shuffled through papers, acting as if what he was going to say was no big deal.

"Don't be afraid to fuck up again. I can always introduce myself to Curly or Angela."

Standing frozen, hand still on the doorknob, you knew he had done his homework about your life. The fucker knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how to instill that fear in you. Clenching your jaw, you turned back around and left the room, careful not to slam the door on the way out.

All that was running through your mind was that he knew about Curly and Angela. He knew, and he'd use them to his advantage if he had to. You knew he would because of that look that was in his eyes.

XXX

"That's some pretty deep shit, man," Dallas said as he pulled out a cigarette to offer you.

You shook your head, not knowing how Dallas could smoke that menthol shit, you had told him about what had happened with Wayne. Marty would have been your first choice, but you weren't sure if he'd actually listen or just freak out about how dangerous it was getting.

Scratching at the back of your neck in frustration, you pulled out your own pack of cigarettes. "Who the fuck threatens family?" This was beyond anything that had ever happened to you, and in all honesty, it scared you, but it was too late to back out now.

"Apparently Wayne Crawford does," Dallas said, watching the cars pass by in front of Buck's. Cigarette hanging loosely from your lips, you glared at him before lighting up. Sometimes Dallas didn't think before speaking and ended up saying something inappropriate instead of comforting. It was a wonder why the girls he was with were always pissed at him.

"Look," Dallas said, taking a puff of his cigarette. "Are you gonna let fucking Crawford come near your family with a ten foot pole? No, you ain't gonna let it happen. Being underestimated is better than him knowing what you're really capable of. I reckon you're the one waiting for him to fuck up."

Just when all hope was lost for the guy, he pulled something out of his ass that actually made some sense. Smirking, you gave Dallas a nod. He was right. You had the advantage of knowing Wayne better than he knew you and the ball was in your court.

If he wanted unpredictability, he'd get it.

**XXX**

**Read it? Review it.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**A/N: Another big, fat thank you to Al for betaing.**

**XXX**

**December 7, 1963**

Roger Boyd was a fat, lazy fuck—you could tell from the moment Mom introduced him to the three of you. He was so big that he probably only owned two t-shirts due to the inability to find anything that big. His hand was outstretched, apparently he was waiting on you to shake it, and you wondered if it was even worth it to try to play nice.

"Timothy," Mom whispered. You were never much for authority figures—mouthing off to cops had landed you with a few blunt objects over the head—but this was Mom. It wasn't because she was your mother that you ended up shaking the no-good, freeloading pig's hand; it was because she had your respect

"I've heard a lot about you, son."

Hell no; this was the first and last time Roger fucking Boyd was ever going to call you son. Dropping your hand from his, you glanced over to your mother, who was already shifting Roger in Curly and Angela's direction before you could say anything stupid enough to call off the whole damn wedding.

It was funny you hadn't heard anything about him until last week. Watching the idiot try to squat down to eye level of your brother and sister. Telling them that Mom was getting married wasn't your idea of a good time. Curly asked if Dad was back and that got Angela all excited, thinking she'd actually get to meet the ol' man. They both wanted to know why when you told it was someone else, and it was the first time in a long time there wasn't an answer that'd make them feel better.

"We'll be getting married in a few months." Mom smiled as Roger struggled to get back on his feet. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from telling Roger that Mom's smile was fake—that she'd never be happy with a shithead like him so he should probably just fuck off. You had a funny feeling Roger had no idea of how sick she really was, that she was getting more and more sick as the years past. Mom put her hand on Roger's shoulder before he turned back to you.

"We'd like for you to be the best man, Tim," he said just as formally as his words were before. It was as if everything was scripted and he didn't mean a single word he'd said. There was no expression on his face, not even a smile, and that's when you decided Roger Boyd was no good for your Mom or your family. You already wanted him out; his permanent scowl was already annoying you.

Best man. Holding back a laugh, you glanced Mom who was still smiling. With a sigh, you gave the guy a slight nod before telling them there was somewhere you needed to be and left the house that had always been the Shepard home and always would be.

XXX

Rita Mitchell had been going to school with you and Marty since the sandbox was the coolest place in the classroom. She had never caught your attention before; hell, you could count on one hand how many times there had been a conversation. It was a shame at this point, watching her… Well, to be honest, you weren't sure what she was doing. Hustling the guy in front of her, perhaps. Whispering in his ear before sliding something into his hand…

Even though you barely knew her, it was still common knowledge that she was very popular. Everyone adored her; in fact, you'd never heard one bad thing about her in all the years she'd been around.

"Whaddya know about Rita Mitchell?" you asked Marty before taking a sip of your beer. Marty looked over at Rita and smirked, as if he had a lot to say about her.

Marty was social sonuvabitch, not to say that you weren't, but Marty got along with everyone and their dog. He was the nicest guy you knew, and there was a reason why he was your best friend and had been since kindergarten when he wore an entire rain suit, pants and all, on the first day of school. Naturally, being summer, you asked him about his choice in clothing, and he bragged that nobody told Martin Fox what he could wear.

"I know she's only interested in older guys." Marty grinned and took a sip of his own drink. "You do know she's your gang leaders step-sister, right?"

Marty wasn't a fan of you being in the Crawford Gang. Said if you died he'd bring you back just so he could shove his foot up your ass. Ben said Marty wasn't "gang material", but you'd rather have him watching your back than anyone who was supposed to. You knew Wayne's stepfather had left and that he had a few older siblings locked away; hell, you even knew he had two stepsisters—Rita and Anne—but you didn't know Rita was the same Rita who sat beside you in history class. It was a well-kept secret for a reason.

"What?" You glanced at Marty who had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, which could only mean one thing: it was no mystery why he knew half the shit he did. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Marty's grin grew wide, as he took another sip of his drink. Hell would freeze over before he didn't tell someone about his exploits.

"Like hell you don't."

"Not that I haven't tried. I don't think I make the age requirement, but her sister, man… that girl is a lot of fucking fun."

With a chuckle, you shook your head before getting off the barstool. You told Marty you'd be right back and sauntered over to Rita who was casually leaning up against the wall, watching the pool game carefully.

"I'm dating someone," she told you almost immediately. And to think people thought your ego was big…

"I don't remember asking. " You chuckled as a smirk formed on her lips. She turned and stared at you with a rather unimpressed look on her face, arms crossed in front of her.

"I'm not stupid, Tim. Your friend Marty over there just told you who my stepbrother is. I know this because in eleven years you've said ten words to me," she rattled on.

"Now you're either over here to legitimately hurt me, or you're planning on using me in some diabolical plot you thought up thirty seconds ago because you just realized how big of a fuck my brother is. And since I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, I'm banking on the second one."

You had to smile. You hadn't given her enough credit. She was smart as a whip and had to be in order to be the con artist that she was, assuming what you'd seen from her was the tip of the iceberg. She nodded at you knowingly before turning back to the game of pool.

"Besides, it'd take much more than a thirty second plan," she said in a quieter voice. "Wayne may seem like a dumb fuck but he wouldn't still have his gang and be breathing if he were, would he?"

She made one hell of a first impression; it was no wonder why people loved her so much. She'd certainly proved she knew what the fuck was up.

You noticed that Ben was fast approaching; there was this sudden nagging in the back of your mind that said he knew what you were up to, that you were trying to find a way to get rid of Wayne. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you shook your head as Rita smirked at you again.

"Nervous?" she asked with that mischievous grin spread across her face. You half-wondered if she was going to say something that would put you six feet under in a blink. You were about to tell her to shut the fuck up but held your tongue when Ben put an arm around her waist. The older man myth must've been true. She let out a laugh at your expense and turned to Ben.

"We were just talking about how excited we are to graduate next year. Ain't that right, Tim?"

You nodded slightly and could only assume she didn't want Wayne knowing what she really thought of him.

XXX

When you finally got out of Buck's, you found yourself yet again in the passenger seat of Ben's car. Apparently you were making a surprise visit to Warren Thomas. The sorry sonuvabitch still hadn't paid off his accumulating debt, and there was a thrill in going somewhere and knowing that you were going to win.

"Why hasn't Wayne kicked your head in?" you asked, referring to Rita. Ben smirked as you made our way out of your territory and into the Tiger neighborhood.

"He ain't like us, Tim," he said, making a sharp turn. "He doesn't care about family; all he cares about is Wayne. He could give two shits about Rita or Anne."

It wasn't something that you could comprehend. Sure, you were a cold-hearted prick, but at the end of the day, you still came home to family. They were all that mattered, and maybe that was why it seemed way off base for another person not to care period.

"Keep the people you love in your life, man. They keep you sane. Once they're gone, you'll just be another Wayne Crawford, and you'll eventually wind up dead and alone."

Apparently Ben loved Rita Mitchell and you guessed it wasn't so hard to understand.

He pulled into a parking lot a block away from what was assumed to be Warren's house. "Are you sure he's gonna be alone?" you asked as the two of you crossed the street.

"I'm sure."

The last thing you wanted was to be ambushed on Tiger territory; they'd probably kill you. But worst of all, you hated not knowing what was going to happen next. Ben was calling all the shots, and as much as you liked and trusted him, it still made you more than uneasy.

"We'll be in and out," Ben said nonchalantly as you stopped in front of an old worn down house. The white paint was chipped, revealing the color it had been previously painted, and the fence was leaning to one side. Toys were scattered around the front lawn.

You didn't want to be here, it made Warren seem like an actual human being. There were kids in that house, and you really fucking hoped Ben didn't have to do anything to rash because you didn't trust yourself enough not to stop him.

Before you knew it, though, Ben was kicking in the front door, and you were right behind him. Warren awoke almost immediately, shoving his kid brother and sister upstairs before thinking to grab something to defend himself with. This could have easily been you and it made your stomach churn. Swallowing the lump in your throat and ignoring the kid's crying, you watched as Ben pulled Warren by his hair and threw him against the floor so hard you heard it crack.

He kicked him a few times in the ribs as you glanced back up at the two kids who were just a little younger than Curly and Angela. They were holding each other, screaming for Warren, and to think you were a part of why they were upset. Kids were different; they didn't deserve to see this and they definitely didn't deserve to be as scared as they were.

Ben squatted down next to Warren, whose nose was definitely broken, then pulled out a gun and pushed it up against Warren's temple.

"Where's the money, Warren?" Ben asked, through gritted teeth. You'd never seen him this mad; it stopped you from saying anything, and it turned the kids' crying into quiet whimpers.

"Fuck you," Warren spat, blood coming from his mouth. Ben bashed his head against the floor once more. You had to admit Warren Thomas had some fucking balls saying that with a gun pointed to his head. Maybe he was just plain stupid.

"Don't make me shoot you in front of these kids. You know I will. Where's the fucking money?"

Ben was almost yelling now and Warren's breathing was so heavy that the familiar sound of someone choking on their own blood filled the room.

"The closet… in my room," Warren coughed. Ben looked at you and shifted his head upstairs, signaling you to go check it out.

You moved quickly, wanting to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, but the terrified looks on kids' faces caught your attention. You stopped and sighed, looking down at Ben, seeing him continue to threaten Warren.

"It's gonna be alright," you told the kids, knowing it probably didn't make them feel a whole lot better. The little boy stared at you for a second and you could feel the hate pouring out of him.

"Are you going to kill my brother?" he sniffled as his sister continued to cry.

"No."

You didn't know if that was entirely true or not. One thing you did know, though, was that you weren't specifically going to kill the guy. The little boy kept staring at you, not knowing if he should believe you or not.

"Promise?"

Glancing down at the kid, you sighed. It was weird how almost all kids worked the same, like a promise would make everything go away or a band-aid would stop the pain.

"I promise."

XXX

When you finally left the Tiger turf and got Wayne his goddamned money, Ben lit up a cigarette outside the old warehouse where the gang met up, or crashed when they were too drunk to remember their names. Digging out your own pack, you hadn't realized how pissed off you were until now.

"I ain't doing anything around kids ever again," you told Ben, lighting a cigarette. You weren't asking permission; you didn't give a fuck that you'd only been there a few months, it was the line that you weren't crossing ever again. Ben sighed and patted you shoulder.

"If Wayne gives you the ultimatum between your family or someone else's, who are you gonna pick, Tim?"

He ashed his cigarette and looked at you for a legitimate answer, even though he already knew what it would be. Wayne Crawford wasn't just threatening you; he was threatening everyone, including Ben.

**XXX**

**I'd like to know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The Outsiders does not belong to me.**

**A/N: Look! I finally updated! Sorry about the extremely long wait but here it, I'd appreciate feedback. Special thanks to Al for editing once again :)**

**XXX**

**December 13, 1963**

When you finally got home, Angela was sitting at the kitchen table eating peanut butter toast. It was late, maybe two or three in the morning. Usually you came home at a decent hour on weeknights, but tonight Marty decided drinking a whole bottle of Jack's was a good idea, and you had to play babysitter.

The kitchen was dark; the moon was glowing through the window above the sink. You had a gut feeling that something was wrong just from looking at your sister.

Slowly, you made your ways towards her and ruffled her hair. "What're you doing up?"

"Curly told me to wait in here 'til you got home," she said, taking a bite of her toast.

Curly was only thirteen, he might have acted as dumb as a doorknob most days, but you saw through it. After all, he was your brother.

Quickly you made your way out into the living room and stopped when you saw Wayne. He was sitting on the sofa watching T.V., and Curly was sitting in the recliner watching Wayne. You glared at him, and he lifted his head to give you an almost sick smile. The way the light of the television hit his face made him look like he was about to tell you a scary ghost story.

"Smart kid," Wayne said, motioning to Curly. "A lot like you."

You were tense; all that was on your mind was the need to kick the shit out of Wayne, the guy who'd just found out where you lived and not so innocently spent the entire night visiting with your kid brother and sister.

"Curly, take Angie upstairs."

Before doing anything you waited for Curly and Angela to climb the thirteen steps up to their rooms. Playing back the last week or so, there wasn't anything that stuck out in your mind as to why Wayne had to pay your siblings a visit. There wasn't anything else in the world you wanted more than to rip his head off, but instead you looked at him and waited for what ever he had to say so he could get the fuck out.

"Ben has nothing but good things to say about you," Wayne started.

Sighing, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, still unwilling to sit down.

"You know, he's fucking my sister." He chuckled. "They're sneaking around as if I'm stupid enough not to realize it."

Was he… confiding in you? Or was he trying to get something out of you? Either way it was uncomfortable because it was Wayne and you were too pissed off at the fact that he was sitting in your living room.

He was questioning Ben. He must have thought something was up, which wasn't good news for you, seeing as Ben had been the one who had taken you under his wing. In Wayne's eyes, if Ben were up to anything, you'd be the one who'd know.

"He's up to something, and I wanna know what it is," Wayne said, flicking his cigarette ashes onto the floor beside the sofa. Still standing behind the recliner, you gazed at Wayne as if he were insane. You knew this wasn't about Rita because Wayne could give two shits about either of his stepsisters.

"He hasn't said anything to me," you said, realizing he was waiting for something to be said. What did Rita have to do with anything Ben had planned for Wayne? Wayne had obviously known a long time ago about them, so why was he suspicious now? Maybe he always had been. The look on his face only confirmed your thoughts.

"I wouldn't expect him to. Ben is smart. But he doesn't think I know how much he hates me. Unfortunately for him, I'm smart, too," Wayne said with a menacing grin on his face as if he had some master plan up his sleeve. "I want you to find out what he's planning."

You stared at Wayne, giving him an incredulous look; even if Ben had a plan to do anything, what made Wayne think you'd tell him before being loyal to a friend? Finding anything out to report back to Wayne seemed like a hilarious notion.

"Do this, Shepard, and I'll make you my right hand man."

With a sigh and a smirk, you looked down at your beat up shoes before looking back up at Wayne. Why would anyone want to be second anything for a guy who would so easily betray someone he's known for years? There was a long history between Wayne and Ben, and it was full of holes that you didn't have the answers to.

But what were you going to say? No? That would just make him suspicious, and that was the last thing you needed. And although Wayne offering something like this was a compliment of sorts, it was also your way in; you didn't know what your plan was right now, but using this to your advantage seemed like a good first step.

"Good," he said, and you gave him a nod. He got up from his spot on the sofa and extended his hand out for you to shake. You were about to give someone your word, knowing it'd be broken, and that was something you'd never done.

"You'll see, Shepard," Wayne said, shaking your hand as if he knew you didn't plan on keeping true to your agreement. "Ben isn't the man you think he is."

XXX

Locking the door behind Wayne didn't provide much comfort. It just resulted in lying awake in bed, tossing and turning, because every time you started to dream, Wayne was there, standing above you about to blow your brains out. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you called Marty before it became too late—not that it wasn't late already.

He was half asleep when he picked up on the third ring. You didn't have to say two words before he knew something was up, didn't even have to ask him to come over and crash on your sofa. That was the thing about Marty; he was loyal, a true friend, and he probably knew you better then your own mother.

You sat on the sofa, watching a late night re-run of Star Trek until Marty came. He opened the already unlocked door, making you tense a little until you were sure it was him. He closed the screen door quietly behind him and stared at you awhile before making his way into the living room.

"What happened?" he asked as he sat down in the recliner across from you. He was still half drunk from earlier that night. He could probably guess what happened; he just wanted you to tell him so he could say 'I told you so,' something he hardly ever got to do. When he gave you a hard look, you shrugged and continued to stare blankly at the television.

"My bed is comfortable, Tim," he complained. "Start talking now or forever hold your peace."

Marty had always been a goof; he could be serious if he had to be, but mostly he left that to you while he provided the comic relief. He sat back in the recliner as you told him about Wayne; how he came into your house uninvited, more than likely scaring the shit out of Curly and what he had offered. Marty was the only person you could tell this shit to because he was the only one you trusted not to open his mouth; his opinion meant something even though he hated the gang bullshit you had gotten yourself into.

"Well… what're you going to do? Kill him?" he joked, rocking back and forth in the recliner. You stared at him until he realized that thought was legitimate in your mind.

"You can't be fucking serious, Tim." The recliner came to a squeaky stop as he stared back. "You can't _kill _someone just because they're an inconvenience."

Wayne was more than an inconvenience, and there was no doubt in your mind that if you didn't meet his standards for this little deal, he'd kill you. You didn't put it past him to shoot you in the back of the head; he'd do it, alright, and leave you with no chance or hope in hell.

"You can't just go around killing people, Tim," he responded to your silence. "Jesus, you're fifteen, you're not supposed to be even _thinking _of shit like that. This isn't good, Tim. I told you… I fucking told you- You don't know how to _actually _kill someone, Tim. You're gonna get the chair. I told you this was a bullshit idea—"

"I ain't killing no one," you reassured him. He was freaking himself out, and you had hardly said anything. Ben was right when he said Marty wasn't cut out for the gang. His brain wasn't programmed that way, and you supposed it was a good ting.

"What're you going to do?" he asked, becoming less tense. Taking it as a sign that he believed you, you gave him a shrug.

"I'm gonna figure out what the fuck is going on," you told him, leaning back onto the sofa.

And you knew exactly what you were going to do.

XXX

**December 15, 1963**

There hadn't been this many people eating at the kitchen table at once since you were really young. Your mom said that from now on Sunday dinners were routine, and that wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for Roger sitting at the end of the table… in your spot. He had brought his daughter, Kelly, to introduce to the family.

She seemed nice enough; didn't give you that no-good feeling Roger did at least. She was two years older than you and lived in Oklahoma City with her mom but visited every other weekend so there was a cot made up for her in Angela's already too small bedroom. She was quiet and polite, but you could tell what she thought of her father by the way she glared at him when he wasn't looking. Honestly, though, you didn't want somebody else to worry about, because surely with enough time, it would be natural to see her as a sister.

Dinner was awkward, and for the most part, quiet. You were glad to get out of the house as soon as it was over, even if it was just the porch. The screen door slammed shut behind you, the way it always did unless it was guided and clicked shut.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here."

You didn't have to turn around to recognize the unfamiliar voice; it was your future stepsister's. She looked overwhelmed or upset, but other than that, she looked like someone who really cared about what they looked like. She had perfectly kept short blonde hair, hardly wore any make up, and dressed more like the girls on the West side than the East.

You didn't know if her Mom made or came from a lot of money, but if she did, you didn't know how someone like Roger Boyd could get his greasy paws on someone like Kelly's mom, assuming that's where Kelly got her looks from.

"I don't blame you for wanting to get outta there."

Leaning up against the railing of the porch, you pulled out the pack of Marlboro's from your jacket pocket and offered one to Kelly. Much to your surprise, she took one, giving you a slight smile as you held your lighter out to her. She stood beside you and sighed as if she has something important to say.

"Listen, sometimes, you have to watch Roger," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. She looked at you before glancing at the pack of cigarettes left on the railing. "He gets weird sometimes."

She looked almost worried. Whether it was because of her past with her father or that Roger was now your family's burden, you didn't know, but either way, it wasn't good fucking news. She opened the half empty pack of Marlboro's, flipped one upside down, and smiled a sad smile.

"One for luck."

**XXX**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders D:**

**A/N: I edited this chapter and I have probably missed some mistakes, so feel free to point any out! This chapter is for Al; I miss my insomniac buddy! xo**

**XXX**

**December 19, 1963**

Bucks was packed full of underage teens from Crawford territory all the way from across the river to King territory. For the most part Buck provided a middle ground for Tulsa's East side, a place where people could drink until they forgot their names or at least until they forgot the girl's name they were bringing upstairs with them. Admittedly, it got rough at times, fights broke out regularly and tension between rival gangs was always high. Fights almost always made it outside though because Buck wasn't too keen paying for repairs… Buck wasn't keen on paying for much of anything but those who fought inside were lucky to get back in let alone get served much of anything.

The thing about Buck's was that even if you came alone there would always be someone you knew already there. It was a good place to watch people, if you wanted to know anything about anyone Buck's was the place to find out what you wanted or needed to know or at least it was a start.

Leroy and Henry Bishop, two brothers that were a part of the Crawford Gang, they were the same age as Ben- you got along with them pretty good. Being only ten months a part they were as close as any brothers you'd ever seen. Where one was the other wasn't too far behind, they were complete opposites but it worked, they were hilarious to be around and didn't seem to take all the gang shit too seriously. They used to be River Kings, you knew that much, they were still friends with a lot of the Kings but you knew they got out because of the gang's involvement with pimping out women, it said a lot about them. You were sure the only reason they were involved with any gang nowadays was because they were good at what they did. It was the only thing they knew and they made a pretty penny; you didn't know what Wayne had them doing but you knew they wanted the money for their own reasons. Leroy had a baby girl with his girlfriend and Henry… well Henry liked the adventure.

The two of them were playing pool with two more from the many Wayne brought in but these two were more around your age, you've known them since freshmen year. Billy Sealy was an Indian that stopped going to school when he was fifteen, he didn't go to your school but you didn't blame him for dropping out, some of the stories he told about the school he was sent to were almost unbelievable. He was a lot taller then most fifteen year olds you knew, had dark skin and hair he definitely looked like an Indian which didn't bide well with a lot of people, including a lot that were in the gang. But you had his back, not that he needed it; he was really good with a knife, too good- you were glad he was on your side. And then there was Jay Nelson; he was a couple years older, his sister Kathy was in your grade. He was a good guy but Jesus Christ he gave most guys a good run for greasiest hood on the East side. The cooler was his second home; he really had no fear, and loved to fight as much as you did. Smart as a whip though, he probably could have ran his own gang if he wanted but he didn't have the patience, mostly he didn't want the work that came with it.

"Henry, we're stripes," Leroy said blandly as you leaned up against the wall, watching the pool game take place. Billy smirked as he lined up his shot.

"Since fucking when?" Henry slurred, looking at his brother. Leroy shook his head and watched as Billy started sinking ball after ball.

"Since the last time he told ya, genius," Jay laughed, coming back from the bar with five beer. Henry laughed and patted his brother apologetically; indifferent to the ten dollars they had on the game.

"Can it Jay, you only play when you can team up with Billy so you can make money without actually doing shit," Leroy quipped, taking a beer off of his hands.

"It ain't my fault I'm smart enough to team up with the best pool player in Oklahoma and not stupid enough to play against you brother's drunk ass," he grinned in satisfaction as Billy sunk the black eight ball in the top right pocket.

"Double or nothin'," Henry piped in, slamming down another ten. Leroy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Jay laughed again as he handed you a beer; Billy looking amused began to wrack them up again. Billy had always been quiet, you didn't know too much about him except that he had a huge family and the few stories he told about those reservation schools—what he does tell anyway, you can tell he doesn't care to talk about unless he can add how silly white people can be, which you really didn't disagree with.

"I think that pretty little blonde you like is at the bar Henry," Billy said as he pocketed one of the fives he had already won. "How long have you been after her now? 

"Too long," Henry groaned as he took back his not yet lost money. "You two don't mind if I uh, take that back and go buy her a drink, right?"

"You're trying to get in bed with a priest's daughter?" Jay snickered when he looked at the girl who was now pretending to avoid eye contact with Henry. It was something only Henry would attempt; he loved the challenge and he hated church.

"She's here ain't she?" Henry said smugly as he made his way over to the bar.

"I got ten bucks he'll give up in one more week," you said, smirking at Henry's antics. Leroy chuckled before taking another sip of his beer.

"You have no faith Shepard, I'll give 'im another month before he gets bored," he said, leaning up against the wall beside you.

"You guys haven't been to church in awhile," Jay smirked, the smirk that never seemed to leave his face. "Those Catholic girls like to lead ya on like they're all curious and wanna rebel against the Holy Book itself. Real believable like - I say she drags this out for two more months… if he's lucky."

"Speaking from experience?" Billy piped in, pool cue still in one hand. He looked toward Henry and the girl he was after. "I bet he gets her in two weeks and manages to keep her around."

You looked at Henry, not seeing what Billy saw. Henry never stayed with a girl longer then he had to, he was more of a wham-bam-thank you ma'am type of guy. But it was Billy's ten bucks to lose; hopefully you were the one who was up thirty bucks by the end of it all.

"I can't even give my own brother that much credit," Leroy chuckled, patting Billy on the back. "I need to get back to the house, Beth is an early riser."

Leroy put his empty beer bottle down on the table. Beth was his ten-month-old daughter he had had with his high school sweetheart, Olivia. He was your only friend with a kid, he was a whole five years older then you but still imagining having kids at any point in your life was laughable. You liked kids enough but you never wanted to be responsible for your own, you had Angela and Curly to worry about and that was enough for one lifetime.

"I'll catch a ride," Jay said before finishing his beer. "My sister has a date with this Two-Bit character and I wanna scare the shit outta him."

You nodded in understanding before they made their way through the crowd. That's when you spotted her, Rita Mitchell. You saw her here more then anywhere else and you were beginning to wonder why. She looked like she belonged there though, her head held high, her hips swinging as she walked; it was hard not to look at her when she walked in a room. Her hair was a mess, like she'd just got out of someone's backseat, she had bright red lipstick on that matched the red lace bra that could be seen under her conveniently low-cut shirt. She looked good.

"She'll get you into trouble, Tim," Billy said, glancing at Rita. You nodded absentmindedly as you watched her make her way behind the bar as if she were right at home. She caught Buck's eye and managed to pull him away from paying customers, a feat not easily accomplished. Rita wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, placed a kiss on his cheek and exchanged a few words before Buck nodded as Rita pulled out a brown bag out of her purse.

"Wayne ever threaten your family Billy?" you asked changing the subject, not taking your eyes off of Rita and what she was doing. The only reason why you were asking Billy was that you trusted him the most, aside from Marty who wasn't in the gang and his oh, so helpful reaction to anything gang related. Billy was quiet and kept to himself for the most part.

"No," he said grimly, in an almost angry voice. "Not mine but a lot of others. I would kill him." Looking toward him, not knowing if he was telling you to kill him or if it was what he would do. He smirked and shrugged as if to tell you he meant both.

"I'd kill him on the spot, no matter the consequence," he shrugged again. "And I think he knows that, he's not stupid."

No, he wasn't stupid. He had Rita running around doing God knows what, you watched as she made her way out from behind the bar, saying one last thing to Buck from over her shoulder before laughing and making her way toward Jeffery-Isaac, more commonly known as the Motorcycle Boy, a name that you thought was absolutely ridiculous so you opted out for calling him "hey you." He was the leader of a small gang called The Packers, it was caught in between Crawford turf and River King turf, and you really didn't blame him for not wanting either gang to take over his neighbourhood. They only had a couple blocks but they could fight and they were respected, and had alliance with both sides in order to stay alive as a gang. You always thought he was a little odd but he got the job done and he seemed smart enough even though he had just gotten kicked out of school for supposedly cheating.

"Did he threaten yours? Are you thinking about hurting Rita?" Billy asked, snapping you back to reality. You shook your head; the thought never seriously went through your head.

"Nah, that'd make me as bad as him," you told him, although you were unsure of where Rita stood; you wouldn't be able to hurt her even if you wanted to. Maybe you weren't capable of it, but maybe that was okay. You watched her as she continued to smile and nod at Jeffery-Isaac as he grew tenser.

"Unfortunately for Wayne, I think you and I have more in common then he knows," Billy stated before letting out a sigh. "If it comes down to picking sides Tim, I will have your back."

You looked back at him and gave him a nod, not saying that it'd happen or not but showing that you appreciated it. And you really did, not many people would side with you but there were a few you had in mind. A few that could be trusted with wanting Wayne Crawford dead and not changing their mind before it was too late. There was a knot in your stomach, thinking that way, wanting to kill someone. The thoughts just came and went now, there was no hesitation, you knew what you wanted and you wanted Crawford dead.

XXX

You watched Billy as he hustled some Tiger at pool; still nursing the half drank beer Jay had bought earlier that night. You were never much of a drinker, you liked to be in control of all situations, especially recently. And no one was in control while drunk. You had lost Rita in the crowd a while ago but as if it were magic there she was standing in front of you. She gave Billy a wave before turning toward you.

"How's that warm beer treatin' ya Shepard?" she asked, moving close enough that you could smell her perfume over the smell of cigarettes. "You're not the only one who keeps tabs," she winked as she ran her hand over yours before wrapping it around the neck of the bottle, taking it out of your hand and replacing it with a bourbon, neat. Buck had probably told her what you liked to drink, it made you wonder why she considered you important enough to ask though, currently it wasn't too hard to shrug off.

"Speaking of tabs, you keep company with some pretty interesting people," you commented, pretending to be interested in the pool game that was still going on. She was a really good distraction and if she weren't dating Ben, you would've been more then happy to take advantage of the opportunity.

"I keep company with the _right_ people, Tim," she smirked, saying your name in a way that caught your attention enough to get you to look back down at her. She was implying something, other then you were somehow the right person to be talking to. It was like she was speaking in code and you would only find out what she was talking about when it happened.

"Does your flattery work on everyone?" you chuckled, taking a sip of the bourbon. She noticed Billy staring daggers at her; she smirked before taking a small step back.

"Mostly," she shrugged as she ran her fingertips across your chest before sitting on the barstool beside you.

"You know, we have a lot in common," she said before taking a sip of her drink. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle, even if Rita knew anything about you, the similarities between the two of you were transparent. She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp and nodded slightly.

"Family," she said, pausing, waiting for you to say something. Without saying anything, you let her continue to the point she obviously wanted to make. "You'd let me know if anything horrible was about to happen to my brother, wouldn't you?"

Last you checked Rita hated Wayne and Ben seemed to confirm that. But now she was pretty much asking you to watch his back. Did they both suspect Ben was up to something? He had never mentioned anything about it to you, but you knew he wasn't the biggest fan of Wayne either and that Wayne more then suspected Ben of something. So, was Rita dating him to get information to protect her brother? You had no fucking clue.

"I think he really does trust you, ya know… at least more then he trusts most people," she continued as if this wasn't news to you. You finished the rest of your drink, mainly because you didn't understand where all of this was coming from. Maybe Wayne had sent her to feed you bullshit so you'd do what he had asked of you.

"People like Ben?" you asked. It wasn't much of a question but more of confirmation to where exactly Rita Mitchell stood. You were surprised when she nodded, you sighed before mumbling under your breath. The way Ben was with her, you had thought she'd choose him before her brother.

"People aren't always as they seem Shepard," she said to you as she got up to leave, looking almost apologetic.

XXX

There was no way you were sleeping when you got home that night. There was too much shit spinning around in your head. Maybe Marty was right about this gang shit. There was so much drama within the gang itself it felt like high school. You didn't know where anyone stood; not Rita, the Bishop brothers or Billy… well, maybe Billy. Who was against Wayne? Who was against Ben? Who the fuck exactly knew about it?

You sighed and turned down the T.V. low enough so you wouldn't wake anyone up. Jesus, you really had no clue what you were really up against. For all you knew you could wind up dead. You squeezed the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on you dry swallowed the four Tylenol you snagged before you sat down. Hearing the third step squeak, you glanced up and saw Angela staring at you with teddy bear in hand.

"You have a nightmare?" you asked. Angela had had bad nightmares when she was younger, and even now, going on eleven she'd wake screaming or crying. She nodded and wiped at her eyes before you patted the spot on the sofa beside you. She ran down the stairs as if a monster was chasing and jumped onto the seat beside you, assuming it was just in case there were monster under the sofa.

She rested her head in your lap as you both watched a rerun of Star Trek. You couldn't just sit around and let people fuck with you. You had to do something; you just had to figure out what.

"I love you, Timmy," Angela mumbled, half asleep. You exhaled the breath you didn't realize you were holding; it was too late to turn back now.

"I know, kiddo," you told her, resting you head on the back of the sofa, finally closing your eyes.

XXX

**December 20, 1963**

"So the fucker just offered you second in command? Just like that? The fifteen year old, new kid? Sounds fucked up, man," Dallas said as he took a drag of his cigarette.

This was the response you got after telling Dallas everything that had happened the last few days. He wasn't wrong though; it was odd. You hardly knew Wayne; you hadn't given him a reason not to trust you but you haven't done much of anything for him not to.

"Maybe all of them are just fuckin' with you man," he shrugged, not offering any useful advice. You had thought about it though, maybe it was all one giant test but you didn't see much of a benefit for all the work it took. You sighed and flicked your cigarette butt onto the road before shoving your hands into your jacket pockets.

"I think they're all trying to fuck each other over, I just don't know who's side to take no more," you shrugged. The upside to having Dallas Winston as a good friend was that you could go from asking for advice-which somehow manged to be good advice-to starting a fight out of boredom, and still come out as friends in the end. Fights with Dallas were the only ones where you fought fair. An unusual friendship, but one of the best you had.

"Shit Shepard, you don't take no ones side but your own," Dallas said with a smirk. Someone told you once that, trust took years to gain and seconds to lose. There wasn't anything more true then that and that didn't just apply to you but everyone. So was Wayne using you to get at Ben? Probably. Was Ben using you to get at Wayne? Most likely. And Rita? Rita was a broad that used what she had to get what she wanted. Whose side was she on? She was on her side, where her loyalties lie would forever remain a question.

In the end everyone was out for themselves.

**XXX**

**Reviews are amazing.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, borrowing is fun though.**

**December 24, 1963**

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Warren said as he sat down at his kitchen table, across from you. "It's Shepard, right?"

Your hands remained in your lap; unseen by everyone in the room, wringing them nervously together there came the questions that you had asked yourself for the eighty-eighth time since knocking on the door, and yes you were keeping track. Why the fuck were you going to the guy whose house you barged into and took a shit load of money, while Ben beat him to a pulp as his kid brother and sister watched? Why were you going to the leader of the rival gang? Since when were you this stupid?

And for the eighty-eighth time you convinced yourself it was just the nerves and the possibility of dying that made you ask those questions—that's all. Although you had the right to be nervous, aside from Warren, who was no doubt armed, there were two guys standing behind you at the door and two more behind Warren. All of which could give Darrel Curtis a run for his money. The nerves didn't show though, you made sure of that… unless there was someone underneath the kitchen table.

"You know what they say… the enemy of my enemy," you said, staring straight back at him. A grin spread across Warren's face as he leaned back into the wooden chair. You knew exactly what you were doing there and because of that there was enough confidence in you to not curl up in the fetal position and curl under the table.

Warren wanted the same thing you did therefore he was the only person there was to go to. Jesus, you didn't even have anyone to bring with you; it was too risky to trust anyone at this point. Not knowing where people's loyalties lie left you alone—for now at least. It wasn't as if you didn't trust Marty or Dallas either, you knew they had your back. But Marty wanted nothing to with gangs so you weren't about to involve him and Dallas tended talk a lot when he was drunk enough. The rest of the Crawford gang was either too scared to stand up to their leader or was loyal enough to have you killed before the words left your mouth.

Eighty-nine, you count as the questions run through your head again.

"So you're my friend now?" he asked, grin still plastered on his face. It almost made you want to smack it off—almost. Giving him a shrug and watched as the two guys behind him gave each other a glance as if they felt sorry for you. "Or have you realized you joined the wrong gang?"

"I can't help where my house lies on your precious map," you snapped. It was true, if there was a choice Crawford wasn't your first. There were territory lines all across the East Side of Tulsa and there was no way in hell someone would pick up a hood that sat in the middle of Crawford territory. You bit your tongue and hoped that it wasn't enough to get you killed but relaxed as he let out a laugh.

"You got balls Shepard, that's why I ain't gonna to kill you," he said, giving you the feeling it wasn't the only reason. "What is it exactly that you want?"

"I want—I want Wayne Crawford gone," you said bluntly. There was no use in dragging it out any further. The quicker you could be out of here the better. You weren't sure about the guys at the door but the two behind Warren shifted uncomfortably. Apparently Wayne had that effect on people. Warren let out another laugh.

"And how do you suppose that's going to happen little Shepard? I suppose you want my help?" he asked before shaking his head.

"Let's get one thing straight, I don't trust you so even when you say you want your precious leader dead, what's to stop you from telling him I want the same? You think I'm going to get involved with a plot to kill one of the most ruthless people in Tulsa because a kid shows up on my doorstep and asks me to? I ain't no patsy, Shepard."

Apparently he watched the news too, which is more credit then the rest of the guys in the room got, from the looks on their faces they didn't get the expression even though it was all that was talked about for the past month. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you sat there not knowing what to do next.

"If you want him dead, you'll just have to do it yourself," he said motioning for the guy on his right. He handed Warren a gun that he placed in the middle of the table. Staring at the gun and back up at Warren, you had never shot a gun before let alone killed anyone. It wasn't particularly fair seeing as he wanted Wayne dead just as badly as you did.

"Go on then, take it," he said. This made you realize Warren was as manipulative as Wayne—just not as subtle. Taking the gun in your hand, you gave Warren another look. Ninety times. Ninety-one—

"All you have to do is point and shoot… simple," he assured before you got up to leave, gun in hand. Yeah… real fucking simple.

You couldn't help that you were getting the short end of the stick. If this idea went to complete shit, you'd be dead and Warren would be fucking peachy. If it worked he'd be laughing. Maybe you just had to sit on the whole thing for a while, after all killing someone was sort of a big deal.

"Oh and Shepard—Merry Christmas."

**XXX**

**December 25, 1963**

Christmas. You don't remember ever liking it. Our Mom tried her best to make is special but it had never been something worth looking forward to. But this year was different.

It was the first Christmas with Roger, joy to the fucking world. He was trying to impress the family, so when Angela and Curly woke up that morning there were more presents under the tree then all your Christmas's combined. He didn't get anything for you—not that you cared; you figured he must have already known there was no way to win you over. He knew you hated him and therefore already hated you by default. In the end you didn't care though, at least Curly and Angela were happy and having the best Christmas imaginable, that's all that really mattered.

It was Roger's Christmas with Kelly and you were pretty relieved when she walked through the door Christmas night. You were so sick of Roger's fake laugh, half the time it sounded as if he was going to hack up a lung.

Kelly was wearing something straight out of the movies; it was a red dress, one of those fancy dresses rich women wore to holiday functions. If you ever had to describe what Christmas looked like, it'd be her in that dress. After the polite hellos and Merry Christmas's she let Angela take her into the living room where she was able to show her all the toys she'd open that morning.

"Timothy, bring the turkey to the table," Mom said as she started bringing over the other food dishes. Getting up from your new seat at the kitchen table you picked up the turkey from the top of the stove and put it in the middle of the table. Mom gave you a smile and patted your shoulder.

When everyone sat down to eat it was all scratching forks and clanking dishes. The silence wasn't that bad, it could be worse—Roger could be talking. It was Kelly that seemed to be uncomfortable with it. She ate slowly and had barely anything on her plate; her eyes darted between her father and her food, you caught her eye before she cleared her throat and smiled.

"I brought presents," she said quietly to Angela and Curly, they both smiled at her, which had actually brought a smile to your face for the first time in a long time. It was nice to have Kelly around, especially because Mom never seemed to be. She had started babysitting both of them when you weren't home on the odd weekend, Curly and Angela adored her, and it definitely made it easier to accept the fact she was now a part of the family just by the way they looked at her.

"Why'd you do that?" Roger said gruffly. Kelly looked up at her father with a look that could kill mixed with a hint of shock. Roger started grumbling under his breath, inaudible words that probably weren't the most pleasant things for a father to being saying to his daughter.

"Well," Kelly said plainly as she smoothed out her dress on her lap. Her look had gone from daggers to indifference pretty quickly. "I figured my new brothers and sister should get _something _for having to deal with someone like you for the rest of their lives."

Roger had gotten up so fast that his chair had fell backwards when he got up. Before anyone could do anything he was ripping Kelly out of her chair by her arm with a grip of death and pulling her out the backdoor in the kitchen. As soon as he was outside he was yelling so incredibly loud you were sure he could be heard at the Curtis house.

"Timothy, don't," your mother warned as you started to get up from the table. Glancing at her and back to the kitchen window, you were out the door when Roger raised his grimy hand to Kelly. He had hit her so hard that she fell on the snow-covered porch. Without thinking you grabbed the back of his ugly green knit sweater and surprisingly jerked his fat ass away from your stepsister. You pushed him again when he tried to make his way past you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he roared, poking one of his fat fingers into your chest. He was winding up to hit you when you violently pushed his hand away when your mother's hand found his shoulder. He continued to glare and you, it was obvious he wanted to beat the ever-living shit out of you.

"Maybe you should drive Kelly home, Timothy," your Mom said from behind Roger. Not breaking eye contact, you glared back at him and swore you saw some fear.

"If you ever touch anyone in this house ever again, I swear to fucking God I will kill you," you told him, ignoring your mother's gasp. He smirked at you before turning around, slamming the door behind him. The fucker could go demolish the rest of dinner and die of a fucking heart attack that would be the best Christmas gift of all.

Turning around, you helped Kelly off the porch handing her your coat, trying your best to ignore the tears streaming down her face. Crying was something foreign to you; even Angela hardly shed a tear. She wiped at the side of her face that wasn't already starting to swell and followed you to the driveway.

The drive was relatively quiet up until you pulled up to her house. She thanked you, for probably more then just the ride home; she sat there for a while before you turned to look at her.

"I got you something," she said before pulling a small box out of her bag. You looked at it and then back up at her. Maybe this was why you didn't care for Christmas; opening gifts was awkward… especially when you had nothing to give them back.

"Just take it Tim," she said, seeming to know you were about to reject it. "It's nothing special but I really had no clue what else to get you," she said happily as you reluctantly took the box from her.

It was a Zippo lighter, the nicest one you had ever seen anyway. Your initials were monogrammed on the front of it- she must have asked your mom what your middle name was. It was definitely the nicest thing anyone had ever gotten you.

After letting out a barely audible thank you, an ear-to-ear grin found her face. You were just glad she could put two and two together and figured you really did like it.

"I… didn't get you anything," you told her, all the money that was made doing Wayne's dirty work was spent on Angela and Curly, the guilt felt like it was caught in your throat. If you had known she was going to get you something, you would have returned the favour. She waved her hand at you, as if what you were suggesting was completely ludicrous.

"There's always next year," she smiled. "You wouldn't happen to have napkin in here? If my grandfather sees my mascara down my face he'll probably dust off his shotgun and hunt down Roger."

Her tone suggested she was kidding but her eyes were dead serious. You motioned to the glove box with instant regret and before you could stop her from opening it, the gun Warren had given you yesterday pretty much fell into her lap. Snatching it from her before she could pick it up. She stared at you, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Are you in-"

"It's nothing," you interrupted her, shoving the gun back into the glove box. "You should go."

"Tim, if you're in trouble…" Before you could interrupt her again she punched you in the arm, demanding that you shut up and listen to her.

"If you're in trouble and I can help in any way, all you have to do is knock on my door," she smiled again and turned to her house and pointed out the window. "It's that red door right there."

You gave her a nod to make her happy enough to inside but not before wishing you a Merry Christmas while demanding that you be careful.

Some women thought they could fix everything and it was better to pretend to agree then to tell them there wasn't much they could do at all. You were beginning to think that was just the way Kelly was, she genuinely thought she could at least help in some way.

You figured it wasn't so bad having someone like that in your life.

**XXX**

**A/N: I know it's been a while but there it is. The timing seemed to work out though; I hope it was worth the wait! Please point out any mistakes; I am currently without my wonderful beta which might reduce me to begging someone to fill the position *****hint, hint*******


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